The fish-monger let out a wet snort and spat into the straw. "Worth something? Yes, if you don't mind the taxes. But ask me what started the whole mess, and I will tell you the truth. It started the day Soren brought that Southern woman into our halls."
"The Empress," the first woman whispered, her eyes darting toward the stone guard-house at the corner of the square.
"Whatever she is," the neighbor growled, slamming a dead perch onto her board. "We had regular bread and a quiet road before she crossed the river. Now we have nothing but broken walls and empty benches."
She waved her bloody hand at the half-timbered stalls around them, where the blackened rafters from the raid were still waiting for new pine boards. "We have this."
Further down the lane, near the blacksmith's forge, an old tenant farmer was holding his boy's shoulder while they watched the iron hammer come down.
